


We Are Full of Stories to Be Told

by speccygeekgrrl



Category: Mystery Science Theater 3000
Genre: Childhood Memories, F/M, Kinga tends to fixate on the worst part of her memories, Long-Term Relationship(s), Max prefers to think about the happiest parts of his, Nostalgia, Songfic, photo albums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 07:16:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16782217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speccygeekgrrl/pseuds/speccygeekgrrl
Summary: They've known each other long enough for their history to be written into their skin at this point. At least the story told by the lines on their faces is a happy one.





	We Are Full of Stories to Be Told

**Author's Note:**

> Shamelessly inspired by the song ["Laughter Lines" by Bastille](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ccFSXgdv5U), which has been on my Kinga/Max playlist for long enough that this was inevitable.
> 
> Fits my headcanons from "even the mistakes aren't really mistakes at all" but isn't part of the series.

"Oh, put that thing away," Kinga sighed as she came in the room. Max looked up from the photo album and wrinkled his nose at her good-naturedly.

"Just because you have no sense of nostalgia doesn't mean I can't indulge mine."

"I don't know what you get from going over those memories. They're not what our life was really like."

"What, because every day wasn't a vacation or a party means those weren't things that count in our history?"

"Do you remember being as happy as you look in these pictures?" she asked, reaching over his shoulder to tap the book in his lap. "Because I don't."

"Of course I do, why wouldn't I?" He flipped a couple of pages and pointed at a picture of them standing on the shore with the wide ocean spread out behind them, Kinga in the purple ruffled swimsuit she'd thrown a tantrum to get and Max with sunblock streaking his nose, both of them grinning wildly. "You don't remember this? When we found the horseshoe crab and you wanted to keep it for a pet?"

"Yeah, I remember it... I remember not being allowed to do it." She came around and sat down next to him, grazing her fingers over the picture. "I don't remember what it felt like to be that young."

"You were a terror," he said. "I never knew what you were going to do next."

"So what's different now?" He turned to look at her, and she arched a brow at him.

"You warn me, now. And you listen to me more now than you used to."

"Really? I remember listening to you a lot."

"Only because you hardly listened to anyone else."

"You know..." She tapped the photo and then reached up to touch his cheek. "You don't look that different, aside from going grey and your laughter lines."

"That's very diplomatic of you to say, but I think the fifty extra pounds did something to me too."

"Oh, hush. You've always had a round face, and I didn't say you look the same. Just not that different."

"You look different," he said.

"Well, yeah, I was eight years old in that picture. You were already grown." Kinga looked down at the album pensively and then started flipping pages until she stopped with a huff. "There. That looks more like us."

In the photo they were both asleep on the couch, Max sitting up with his head tilted back, Kinga curled up with her head on his thigh and one hand curled around his knee. It was one of the last pictures that had been taken of them before Dr. Forrester had turned into a starbaby, a peaceful scene that would be denied them for a decade after that, but one they'd recreated with some frequency once they re-established their comfort in each other's personal space.

"Well, you've always enjoyed treating me like furniture," he said. She kicked his ankle and leaned against him. "Prove my point."

"You're not furniture but you are a very comfortable pillow."

"Oh, thanks."

"Yeah, act like you don't like it when I lie on you, that's really convincing."

Rolling his eyes, Max moved the photo album off his lap and shifted down until he was at the end of the couch. "Go ahead, you know you want to." Kinga sprawled out over the couch, her legs hanging over the arm and her head on his lap, and grinned up at him. "You're incorrigible," he said, and brushed his fingertips next to her eye. "And you're getting laughter lines of your own, here."

"Rude, never point that out to a woman." She didn't stop smiling, though.

"No, I like them. You don't have stress wrinkles. You have laughter lines. It means I've done a good job taking care of you."

"Is that what it means?"

"Shh, let me pretend it is."

"You have," she said softly, catching his hand and drawing it down so she could kiss his fingers. "You've done an excellent job. The fact that I'm still alive is testament to your remarkable ability to keep me from self-destructing."

"That's what I'm here for."

"Not just alive but happy and living my dreams," she added. "Which wouldn't be possible without you."

"Keep going, it's going straight to my head and I like it."

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Ooh," Max said, shivering. "You could tell me that more often."

"Oh yeah?"

"I tell you how important you are to me all the time. It's nice to hear it back."

"It's true. I wouldn't be the person I am now except for you." He leaned over to nudge his nose against hers, and she arched her neck to catch him in a kiss, reaching up to drag her fingers through his hair. "I love you."

"I love you too. You're my purpose, I wouldn't be the person I am now but for you either," he said softly. They looked at each other for a moment, smiling at each other in a distinctly dopey fashion. 

Kinga reached up to touch next to his eye and drag her fingertip down his cheek. "Your laughter lines are really cute," she admitted. "I'm glad you have them. They prove that you've been happy."

"Do you need the visual proof when you're the reason I'm happy?"

"Yes. Because they're the mark of you being happy for a long time, and sometimes I forget that I'm capable of causing that."

"Why do you think I look through our old pictures, silly? I like to remember just how long we've been happy together." She turned her face into his stomach for a moment before sitting up next to him and pulling the photo album onto her own lap.

"You want to know my favorite memory in this book?"

"Of course I do."

She flipped through the pages backwards but didn't have to go far to find what she was looking for. "Here," she said. The page she pointed at held four photos of the same afternoon: Max braiding Kinga's hair, Kinga in the middle of a gymnastics routine, Kinga posing between her father and Max with a medal hung around her neck, and a blurry shot of Max spinning with Kinga in his arms, the same whirl that knocked her out of a building tantrum or into a spiral of excitement with the same ease. "You were all so proud of me," she said. "All I wanted to do was make you proud of me and it felt so good to pull it off like that."

"So you _do_ remember being happy," he said, and elbowed her gently. "You're so dramatic."

"Shut up."

"I just like being right."

"Well, savor it."

"Believe me, I do. Every time. Even though I'm usually right."

"You're not _usually_ right."

"Oh? _Mostly_ right? _Often_ right? _Always_ right, wow Max, I'm so sorry I ever doubted you?" he teased, and she elbowed him back.

"Don't push it." They were both laughing, though, leaning into each other's sides, and Kinga turned to kiss Max's temple, lips brushing over the lines beside his eye gently. "I love the way you look when you laugh."

"Good thing I laugh a lot, then," he said. "I do want you to like looking at me."

"Of course I like looking at you, dork, you're my favorite person. But I like it more when you're happy. And you're usually happy when you look at me."

"Yeah, that's how it works." She leaned forward to set aside the photo album, he got an arm around her when she sat back, and they both sighed quietly as they settled into a cuddle with her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad we’re here together now,” Max murmured. “There were times in the past when I was afraid I wouldn’t see you in the future. But we made it.”

“We’ve got a lot of future to go. Years and years of making the show, I hope.”

“Even more laughter lines to accumulate,” he said, and she huffed a laugh and nodded.

“More happiness to prove.”

“Good. That’s how I want our lives to go.”


End file.
